


The Piece Remaining

by IgnisTrigger



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Romance, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 17:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1518542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IgnisTrigger/pseuds/IgnisTrigger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She'd slipped right through his fingers, and he had only himself to blame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Piece Remaining

**Author's Note:**

> the first time i got robin married to lon'qu, it was partly because one of lon'qu's barrack/event tile phrases is "(name), if you die out there... i'll kill you." and i thought that would be pretty funny, considering a certain endgame decision of robin's. it wasn't until later that i realized the full extent of what i'd done.
> 
> i'm so sorry, lon'qu.
> 
> (except i'm really not.)

_The sounds of clashing steel and battle cries could barely be heard over the roar of the wind, which blew through the battlefield in earnest. Even Lon'qu, who had learned to fight in Regna Ferox's harsh weather conditions, was having a hard time staying on his feet._

_The fact that the battlefield happened to take place on top of an airborne dragon wasn't helping matters, either._

_Lon'qu lurched forward as another gust struck him from behind, but he managed to catch himself in time to parry an attack from an oncoming Risen. Using the creature's apparent surprise as an opening, he thrust his kanata forward, directly into its chest. A single swing was all it took to tear through soft tissue, causing the Risen to go up in thick black smoke._

_Just as quickly as it had died, another took its place. It let out an inhuman roar, its features distorted in rage, before coming toward Lon'qu at full force. When the axe came down, instinct took over and he dodged by mere centimeters before countering with another slash of his own._

_This was no good, Lon'qu thought as smoke filled the space the Risen had just been occupying. His reaction time was getting slower. So far he'd been lucky to have only sustained shallow cuts, but at this rate, he might end up with a far more serious injury._  

 _He took a moment to catch his breath before rushing into another oncoming Risen. The battle had already been raging for what felt like an eternity. How long would it be until Chrom landed the killing blow on that damned dragon?_  

“ _Robin, how are you—” Lon'qu began, but he was cut off when he realized that his wife was no longer in sight. He was immediately gripped with an icy fear. She had been right behind him a moment ago. Where had she run off to?_  

 _His question was answered when Lissa shouted, “Robin? Hey, Robin!” at the same time Morgan cried out, “Mother, wait!”_  

 _Lon'qu turned in time to see the back of her purple cloak as she pushed through the front lines. He moved forward and tried calling out to her, but his voice was drowned out by the cry of the Risen that had suddenly materialized in front of him. “Move,” he barked before delivering a well-aimed strike across its chest._  

 _Up ahead, Lon'qu could see the look of confusion that flitted across Chrom's face as Robin shot past him, a magic tome held firmly against her chest._  

“ _Robin?” the prince exclaimed. “Wait, what—” He attempted to follow her, but his path was suddenly blocked by several undead warriors. He lashed out with Falchion, but a new Risen appeared to replace the one that had been slain._  

 _At this point, Robin was already standing before the dragon's vessel, ivory hair billowing wildly in the wind. The determination in her eyes was more electrifying than the open Thoron she held in one arm, causing Lon'qu's blood to turn to ice. He'd heard about the conversation she and Chrom had had with Naga, had seen the resigned look in Robin's eyes when she'd returned to camp that night. There was only one reason she would face Grima alone._  

“ _Robin!” he and Chrom shouted simultaneously, having apparently come to the same conclusion. Lon'qu slashed at the enemy with renewed strength, but every attempt to move forward was met with a vicious attack from a newly-spawned Risen. Chrom appeared to be having similar luck, as he was completely surrounded._  

 _At Grima's head, Robin lifted a single gloved hand, crackling with electricity, and time seemed to come to a standstill._  

 _Apparently, the enemy was momentarily distracted by the sight as well. Lon'qu seized the opportunity and tore his way through the enemy ranks, and Chrom quickly followed suit up ahead. Lon'qu vaguely heard Morgan call out to Robin as well, followed by the sound of clashing steel, but he couldn't afford to look back. Not now. Chrom was several meters ahead of him, but even_ he _still wasn't even close to reaching her. Lon'qu's panic began to rise. At this rate, Robin would—_  

 _His thoughts came to an abrupt halt as his wife's hand shot forward, sending a bolt of electricity directly through her lookalike's heart._  

“ _Robin! No!” he heard Chrom cry out as both Robin and Grima were enveloped in violet smoke._  

_Lon'qu's own anguished shouts were drowned out by the fell dragon's roar._

 

~*~*~

 

He woke with a start. 

The sound of his heavy breathing was the only thing that filled the silence, and it took Lon'qu's muddled brain several seconds to realize that he had been dreaming. Despite his fatigue, he managed to pull himself into a sitting position as he tried to catch his breath. His body was covered in sweat. It caused the sheets to cling to his skin, but Lon'qu paid this fact no mind. Instead, he ran a hand through dark, messy hair and let out a shaky sigh. 

Eight months. It had been eight months since that day, and he was still having nightmares about it. 

It took several seconds before his breathing finally evened. Moonlight streamed through stain glass windows, painting the room a dull silver and making it easier for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Not that it made much of a difference to Lon'qu. His gaze remained glued to his hands, which now gripped the blanket so tightly that he could feel his fingernails digging through the thick material. They were strong hands, steady and calloused from many years of wielding a sword. So why was it that they'd failed to protect the women in his life not once, but twice? 

Brows furrowed, Lon'qu peeled the covers from his body and tossed them aside. He turned so that his legs were hanging off the side of the bed, but he made no move to stand up. 

There was a small part of him that knew that even if he'd been able to catch up to her, he couldn't have stopped Robin from sacrificing herself. Though her methods had sometimes been questionable, her character had not. She'd put everyone's lives above her own, and her death had secured a future where Grima would never plague the world again. That sort of warrior's nobility had been deeply ingrained into her being. 

The other part of him—the more vocal part—could only blame himself for the empty side of his bed. 

At first, Lon'qu had believed in Naga's words: That Robin's ties would keep her bound to this world. That she just wasn't the dying sort. But as the weeks turned into more than half a year without so much as a single potential sighting, Lon'qu had begun to wonder if his previous hopes had only been a way to alleviate his sense of guilt. He'd seen her expression the night she'd come back from Mount Prism. He should have tried harder to talk her out of it. He should have watched her more closely on the battlefield so she wouldn't have had a chance to slip past him. He should have... He should have... 

Suddenly filled with anger—at himself, at Grima, at everything—Lon'qu stood up and threw his fist against the wall. His entire hand began to throb, but it didn't make him feel any better. Robin and Ke'ri were still dead, and for all he knew, many other women who'd had the misfortune of coming into contact with him were as well. 

Slowly, he pressed his forearm flat against the cold, hard stone and rested his head against it, feeling completely deflated. He had a feeling that he would wake up to find bruises on his knuckles, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. 

Instead, he screwed his eyes shut against the wetness that began to prick at them and swallowed against the painful lump in his throat, wondering when the women he cared for would stop dying because of him.

 

~*~*~ 

 

There were few things that gave Lon'qu a rush the way sword fighting did. Ever since he'd taken up the art, it had become easy for him to get lost in his training. The strain on his body was as rewarding as it was tiring. His mind also felt sharper, more focused; the only thing that existed was his target and himself. His troubles seemed miles away when there was a sword in his hand. 

Lon'qu swung at the log—now barely more than a mutilated stump from hours of training—and sliced it in half, effectively finishing it off. He sheathed his sword and then bent down to inspect it, letting out a dissatisfied grunt. The cut hadn't been a clean one; the wood was splintered and jagged. It appeared he would have to try harder next time. 

(He seemed to be telling himself that a lot as of late.) 

He took a step forward, about to fetch himself another log, when a voice suddenly called out to him. 

“You look like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.” 

Startled, Lon'qu whipped around to face the direction the voice had come from, hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword. He found its source leaning against a nearby tree, gazing at him apologetically from under the shadows. 

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.” 

“Chrom,” said Lon'qu, lowering his defensive stance. He'd heard that the exalt had arrived on diplomatic business, but Lon'qu hadn't expected to be approached by him. “How long have you been standing there?” 

“Long enough.” Chrom took a few steps forward, a serious expression on his face. “You've always been a disciplined warrior, but I sense a desperation behind your blows this time. And I think I know why.” 

Lon'qu's body tensed. He didn't like where this confrontation was going. “You know nothing.” 

Chrom shook his head. “That's not true. I may not have my sister's gift of reading people, but I knew Robin well. Right now, you have the same expression she did after she was taken under Validar's control. You and she are a lot alike, you know.” 

There was a point in time where Lon'qu might have been pleased by that comparison. However, right now, he wasn't sure how to feel about it. “How so?” 

“You have a tendency to blame yourselves for things outside of your control, for starters.” 

This time, Lon'qu remained silent. 

“She wouldn't blame you for what happened,” the exalt tried again, azure brows furrowing in determination, “and she wouldn't want you to blame yourself, either. She'll tell you the same thing when she returns.” 

 _When_. Lon'qu had once spoken with that same confidence, but over time, his 'whens' had become 'ifs' before the topic of her possible return became one he avoided discussing as much as possible. He wished he could still possess that same conviction. 

“I have every desire to believe you,” he replied, turning to leave. “However, until I hear it from her lips—” _If_ he ever did, and there was that 'if' again. “—the blame rests on me for being unable to save her.” 

“But—” 

“Enough. You have far more important matters to attend to. The state of my conscience should not be of any concern to you.” 

With that, he started toward the pile of logs, leaving Chrom to sigh in frustration behind him. He pretended not to hear it.

 

~*~*~

 

“ _Lon'qu,” Robin began, shifting in their shared makeshift cot so that her body was positioned toward him. Her bare breasts brushed lightly against his skin, and Lon'qu was thankful that the darkness hid the heat that flooded his cheeks. It seemed he hadn't quite gotten used to their new arrangement yet._  

“ _Yes?” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant._  

“ _Do you think...” She hesitated a moment, then rephrased her question. “Would you be okay with telling me why it is you're afraid of women?”_  

 _It was Lon'qu's turn to hesitate. The story of his childhood—of_ her _—was a difficult one to tell. Because of this, he wasn't in the habit of sharing it with just anyone._  

 _Then again, he supposed that now that she was his wife, Robin could hardly be considered 'just anyone'._  

“ _If you're not comfortable telling me, I understand,” she said quickly. “I imagine it's pretty personal.”_  

“ _No, it's...fine.” He exhaled through his nose. “But it's a long, dark tale. Are you prepared to hear it?”_  

“ _If you're willing to tell it, then I'm willing to listen. I want to know you better.”_  

 _Her words caused a warmth to permeate Lon'qu's chest, but it was short-lived. He took a deep breath before launching into the account of his childhood. He told her of his time in the slums and of the young village girl who had befriended him despite their difference in status. He spared Robin no detail—not even the ones he had kept locked up since he was young._  

 _When the time came for him to retell Ke'ri's death, he faltered. Robin didn't press him. Instead, she placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “It's okay. You don't have to continue.”_  

“ _This is...difficult for me,” Lon'qu admitted. “But I can manage.”_  

 _It took a moment for him to strengthen his resolve before he pressed on. “We had just set up a picnic by the river when we were set upon by bandits. I attempted to fight them off, but they...” He swallowed. “I was weak. In the end, she died protecting me.”_  

“ _Lon'qu...” Robin's voice was filled with both understanding and sorrow._  

“ _From that day forward, I've been afraid the same misfortune would befall any woman who dared get close to me. One had already died because I was not strong enough. I vowed never to make the same mistake again.”_  

 _Robin reached down to grip his hand, but she said nothing. A heavy silence lapsed between them, and after several minutes, Lon'qu wondered if she had fallen asleep._  

“ _Thank you for telling me,” she finally said._  

 _Lon'qu closed his eyes, suddenly feeling drained. “Think nothing of it.”_  

“ _I do have one question, though.”_  

“ _What is it?”_  

“ _You told me that I'm the exception.” She absentmindedly trailed a finger up his forearm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Does that mean you're not afraid I'll die?”_  

“ _You're the exception because you are a con artist and a madwoman,” he reminded her flatly._  

“ _Hey!”_  

 _This time, it was Lon'qu who turned to face her. “But more than that, you are strong, and your tactics prioritize survival. I'm confident you can hold your own. You don't strike me as the dying sort.”_  

 _Though it was dark, Lon'qu could faintly see the corners of Robin's lips lift into a smile as soft as it was pleased, sending a new round of warmth to his cheeks. “Coming from you, that's high praise indeed.”_  

“ _Hmph.”_

 

~*~*~

 

Lon'qu hadn't known what to expect when he was called into the throne room late one afternoon. The messenger had said it was urgent, but he'd failed to elaborate any further than that. 

What he _hadn't_ expected to find was his future son, who looked as cheerful as ever as he stood next to an equally unperturbed Basilio. Lon'qu's mind, which had been reeling with possibilities, drew a blank as his gaze met their smiling faces. 

“Father!” exclaimed Morgan, rushing over to meet him. “It's been a while, hasn't it?” 

“Morgan,” said Lon'qu, quick to cut to the chase. “What's happened? I was given an urgent message to come here.” This part he aimed at Basilio, who stood with his arms folded across his chest. He looked distinctly pleased with himself. 

“Oh, right!” said Morgan, as if he'd just remembered something important. “I have great news!” 

“And what might that be?” asked Lon'qu, who was becoming increasingly confused by this exchange. 

“I wanted to make this big, elaborate presentation—I mean, this is the news of the _century_ —but I guess there's no fancy way to put it. So here goes!” He paused, and his face broke into a grin. “They found Mother.” 

It took Lon'qu a full ten seconds to comprehend what he'd just been told. His eyes widened and his lips parted, but no sound came out. 

They'd found Robin? What did that mean? 

“What?” he managed to get out, not sure he'd heard correctly. 

“Yeah, Chrom and Frederick did and Lissa did! And in the same field they'd _first_ found her in, to boot. How funny is that?” Morgan laughed. “Anyway, this means Naga was right. Mother made it out of this alive. I mean, not that I ever doubted she would. She's made of tougher stuff than a single dragon can take down!” 

“And she's... You said that Chrom found her? This is no jest?” 

“I'm sure Chrom likes a good joke as much as the next guy, Father, but that would be kind of mean, don't you think? Besides, I already went to see her myself. She looks pretty not-dead to me.” 

Lon'qu's response was immediate. “I must go to Ylisse.” 

He didn't have to think twice about his decision. Hell, he couldn't even _hear_ himself think over the blood pounding in his ears. Only one comprehensive sentence ran through his mind, over and over: 

 _Robin is alive_. 

Basilio, who had been silent throughout the exchange, suddenly burst into loud, unabashed laughter. “I had a feeling you'd say that, lad. But you can save yourself the trip.” 

Before Lon'qu could ask what he meant by that, Basilio stepped aside to reveal a much smaller figure behind him, causing Lon'qu's breath to catch in his throat. 

 _Robin_. 

There was a paleness to her skin that hadn't been present before, and she looked like she'd lost some weight as well. Lon'qu supposed that she'd gotten off easy, considering that the last he'd seen of her was when her body had scattered into the wind. However, everything else—from the long white pigtails that fell down the front of her oversized purple cloak, to the spark of wisdom in her eyes, to the casual way she carried herself—was every bit the Robin he remembered. 

“Hey,” she greeted nonchalantly. 

“Robin,” he breathed far less nonchalantly. 

They locked eyes, and Lon'qu could feel his composure slowly begin to slip. 

“Come on, boy,” he heard Basilio say to Morgan after a moment of silence. “These two need time to catch up. Besides, this'll give me a chance to make sure that father of yours has been training you properly!” He let out another bark of laughter before clapping a large hand on Morgan's shoulder (Lon'qu didn't miss the way he winced) and leading him toward the exit. 

Before his son left, he turned around to give Lon'qu a thumbs-up. It did nothing to calm his nerves, but he appreciated the gesture. 

The moment their echoing footsteps disappeared down the corridor, Robin smiled amusedly at him. “You still aren't very good with words, are you?” 

“I'm sorry.” 

She laughed, a sound he hadn't heard in what felt like an eternity. “It's nothing to apologize for. To be honest, I've always found that part of you to be pretty charming.” 

“No, that... That isn't what I meant,” he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration—both at his loss of words and at the compliment he didn't deserve. 

“Hmm? What is it, then?” She looked genuinely perplexed, which only made him feel worse. Did she really not have a clue what he was referring to? 

Lon'qu took a deep, shuddering breath. “I had vowed never again to let a woman die because of my weakness, but I... I couldn't protect you. I failed once again. For that, I ask your forgiveness.” 

Realization set in, and Robin looked as though she'd been stricken. “Oh, Lon'qu... I'm so sorry. I didn't realize...” She trailed off, and her pained expression changed to one of apology. She took a few steps forward, closing the distance between them, and for the first time since marrying her, Lon'qu wanted to flee from her touch. 

He didn't, however. He stood still when she reached up to gently, almost hesitantly cradle his cheek in her hand, and even more so when she opened her mouth to speak again. 

“Listen to me. You didn't fail me. I did what I did because I felt like the destruction Grima caused was partly my fault. Had I not set things right, I wouldn't have been able to live with myself. After all, what is one life in the shadow of millions?” She smiled sadly. “Besides, Naga said that my ties in this world would keep me alive, and I... I love you more than anything. Without you, my ties might not have been strong enough to keep me here. You may very well have saved me, Lon'qu.” 

Even if Lon'qu hadn't been rendered speechless, he doubted he would be able to utter a single syllable. Her words caused his throat to ache and his chest to swell, and he was fairly certain he'd never needed to hear anything as much as he'd needed those words. 

“ _She'll tell you the same thing when she returns.”_  

The next time they crossed paths, he would have to let Chrom know that he'd been right. 

Apparently discouraged by his lack of a response, Robin let her arm fall back to her side, looking almost crestfallen. Lon'qu caught her hand before it fell limp and, before she could react, pulled her forward, enveloping her in his arms. 

She let out a sound of surprise, but quickly relaxed in his embrace. She rested her head against his collarbone, her own arms wrapping around him just as tightly. “Were you scared?” 

He didn't answer. 

“I'm so sorry.” 

“If you die again,” said Lon'qu, his voice thick with emotion, “I'll kill you.” 

“So much for having confidence in me.” Robin chuckled softly, but Lon'qu could feel her whole body trembling. Or perhaps it was his. He couldn't quite tell anymore. “Don't worry. I'll stay safe if you will. I want to grow old together.” 

He pulled her closer to him and leaned his cheek against her hair, wanting nothing more than to indulge in that image for a while. 

“I'll hold you to that.”

 

~*~*~

 

The sun had only just set when Lon'qu led her back to his quarters. Their reunion had left them both emotionally drained, so they'd agreed to turn in early for the night. Lon'qu tried not to think about what it must look like for him to be stealing Robin away so soon after her arrival. She was his wife, after all, and the castle staff would gossip no matter what time they chose to retire. 

He watched her reaction carefully as she surveyed his living space. After becoming Basilio's champion, Lon'qu had been given a room in the castle by the West-Khan himself. It was a modest room located in the same wing the staff resided in. Sparsely furnished, it contained a bed, a wardrobe against the left wall, and a small table and chair set near the stain glass windows. Still, it was far above the streets he'd known as a child, and it more than suited his needs. 

Apparently, Robin felt the same. She turned to give him an approving smile. “I like it.” 

Lon'qu cleared his throat, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I am glad to hear that.” 

Though clearly hesitant now that she was in new territory, Robin wasted no time in making herself comfortable. Walking toward the table, she slid out of her cloak and draped it over the back of the chair. She reached to untie her hair ribbons next, and as her snowy hair cascaded down her back, Lon'qu suddenly wanted very much to run his fingers through it. 

Instead, he turned away and began readying himself for bed as well. 

Within minutes, they were lying beneath the blankets, stripped down to nothing but their undergarments. The feeling of her beside him after so long was a strange sensation, but certainly not an unwelcome one. She filled the empty side of his bed—and more importantly, his heart—like the remaining piece of a puzzle, one he had thought would remain lost forever. 

After a lengthy silence, Lon'qu took a deep breath and steeled himself to ask the question that had been plaguing the back of his mind since they'd left the throne room. 

“Will you remain in Regna Ferox with me?” 

It wasn't a request. He knew that Ylisse was the first home Robin could remember, and that her position as Chrom's tactician was something she highly valued. He wouldn't ask her to give up something so important to her; he simply needed to know where they stood on this particular subject. 

Robin blinked. “Of course. You didn't think I traveled all the way from Ylisse just to leave, did you?” 

Lon'qu was taken somewhat aback. He'd half-hoped she would say yes, but he hadn't expected her to agree so readily. It took him a moment to find the right words. 

“What of the Shepherds? You would give up your life with them so easily? Your position?” 

“You make it sound as though I'm cutting them out of my life forever.” Robin laughed, then her expression turned serious. “I thought about this nonstop during my trip here. The war is over now, so the Ylissean army has no need for a tactician. Chrom has become a fine ruler in my absence. It's about time I learned to be a great tactician in my own right, without having to rely on him. And with the relationship between Ylisse and Ferox being so strong, I should be able to visit him and the rest of the Shepherds whenever I'd like. 

“Besides...” She gave him a shy smile. “I have one very important reason for wanting to stay.” 

Lon'qu was once again thankful that the shadows hid his burning face. 

“I...have no idea how to react to this,” he admitted after a moment, looking anywhere but at her. “I never expected you to say yes so easily.” 

“Are you okay with it?” 

The corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly. “It makes me happier than I can put into words.” 

“Well then, regarding your reaction...” She hesitated, sounding embarrassed. “Er, you could kiss me, I suppose?” 

Lon'qu lifted his eyes to meet hers once again. She was looking at him hopefully, waiting for him to make the first move. Robin knew not to push him when he was feeling vulnerable. She'd extended the same courtesy to him on the day she'd first asked him to hold her, and he knew she would wait patiently until he was ready. The thought sent a new warmth through his chest. 

Slowly, he propped himself up on one arm and leaned over her, heart pounding. He drank in the sight of her parted lips and lowered eyelids, at the way her long hair fanned out across the sheets, at how she looked so in control even from her position beneath him. Using his free hand to lace his fingers with hers, Lon'qu pinned her hand to the mattress, marveling, not for the first time, at how such small hands had the power to change lives—both on the battlefield and off of it. 

“Very well,” he said. 

And then he pressed his lips to hers. 


End file.
